


Debt of Honor

by OtherCat



Category: Bleach, Sector General - James White
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Hollow Ichigo - Freeform, I explain most of the important bits, Other, Quincy Ichigo, Read the notes if you don't know Sector General, that are relevant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherCat/pseuds/OtherCat
Summary: Grimmjow: If we take him back to his people, they'll kill him.Nel: Well, there's alwaysDoctors Without BordersSector General!In which Ichigo recovers from a bad case of nonsentient mutagenic alien.This fic is Entirely Askerian's Fault.





	Debt of Honor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Asuka Kureru (Askerian)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askerian/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bloodsport](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587980) by [Asuka Kureru (Askerian)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askerian/pseuds/Asuka%20Kureru). 



Major O’Mara looked between the two Arrancar sitting in his office. The higher ranking one was seated; the other slouched by the door. There was no military precision there, but rather a sort of predatory watchfulness. Literally predatory, since Arrancar while technically descended from DBDG Earth-humans, were also classified SRTT due to the assimilation (partly accidental, partly deliberate) of their DNA with the SRTT native life of their home planet. “It’s highly unusual for Arrancar to bring Quincy political prisoners to Sector General. Particularly ones that have been extensively experimented on,” O’Mara said in a flat, even tone.

“Not a political prisoner,” the Arrancar by the door said. “No value. Quincies fuck their own over about as much as they do everyone else.” 

O’Mara detected a certain amount of defensiveness in the tone. Not guilt or remorse, the Arrancar history of experimentation with few controls or standard Monitor Corps ethics on their own population or enemies precluded that. They were even proud of it. This defensiveness was something else entirely. Perhaps it was a reaction to the disapproval of an outsider?

“Espada,” the higher ranking Arrancar said, her tone a warning. The Arrancar by the door suddenly straightened at the tone, into a definite military-precise posture. “Major O’Mara, Kurosaki Ichigo isn’t currently a prisoner. The Sexta and I are acting as Kurosaki’s guardians until such a time as he’s able to care for himself. We brought him here because the Monitor Corps is entirely neutral, and Sector General is best known for its innovative therapies.”

“The Hueco Mundo government has been generally reluctant to receive assistance in the past from the Monitor Corps,” O’Mara said. “Preferring to use their own medical organizations.” 

“We’re acting as private citizens,” the Tres Espada, a woman named Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck said. “For reasons of personal honor.” 

“Personal honor,” O’Mara mused. “And personal obligation toward an enemy combatant?” 

“It’s been known to happen,” the Tres said with a sunny smile. “Wasn’t Sector General founded by former enemy combatants?”

“Hueco Mundo and the Quincy Empire aren’t ‘former enemies’ despite the best efforts of the Monitor Corps’ peacemaking efforts,” O’Mara pointed out. “The patient records we’ve received don’t provide a great deal of background for Mister Kurosaki’s situation as a former Jagdarmee soldat under the ‘guardianship’ of members of the Hueco Mundo military.” 

“That’s because it’s classified information,” the Tres said. “All we can say is that Kurosaki-san was of great assistance to Hueco Mundo’s government despite having been an enemy combatant.”

The Sexta Espada by the door shifted, left hand rubbing at a scar on his neck, a jagged circle. He glared at O’Mara. “You’re taking him, right? Admitting him. Why the fuck is this such a big deal?” 

“Yes, we are admitting him,” O’Mara said. “Of course we are. What I need to know are your intentions toward the patient, and the provisions you’re going to take should he need long term care. From there we can create a plan of care.”

“What do you mean by ‘intentions’?” The Sexta asked with a scowl. “Think we’d bring him here if we had bad ones?” 

“I’m not sure what you’d do,” O’Mara said, with a touch of acidic irritation. “That’s why I asked.” 

The Sexta bristled, literally, his hair spiking even further as he growled. He started to say something, but his superior interrupted. “Major, we want to help him,” the Tres said, her tone placating. “The only other alternatives are permanent suspension or allowing him to be put down. Given the genus he was combined with, it’s impossible to confine him for long.”

“Impossible to confine?” O’Mara asked. 

“Well, there’s dropping him in a reserve, but that would be a shit thing to do, if we could’ve done something to fix it,” the Sexta said. 

“The dragon genus is the most dangerous predator in Hueco Mundo,” the Tres said. “There’s never been a successful combination with a dragon. No one has tried it in centuries because combinations go completely feral, the dragon doesn’t know human reason. Combined with Quincy psychic talents…” the Tres trailed off. 

“But someone did try it with Mister Kurosaki,” O’Mara said. Neither of the Arrancar responded to the comment. They were not going to let anything slip on that account, it seemed, even if it might help the patient. “It seems you’ve handed Sector General an interesting challenge. How long will you be staying?” 

“We have two weeks of leave,” the Tres said. 

“Would you be willing to give information about Hueco Mundo fauna to the team that will be working with Mister Kurosaki?” 

“Of course,” the Tres said. 

* * *

Doctor Conway reviewed his notes, and the patient’s case file. The patient was a DBDG suffering from the mutagenic effects of a nonsentient SRTT predatory lifeform, currently in suspension. The patient was unable to communicate, aggressive and suffering from extensive trauma including malnutrition and what amounted to medical torture. Peter Conway was not generally a man given great fits of temper, but in this case he was close to making an exception. 

There were no Arrancar educator tapes and the Quincy tape was proving to be nearly useless. The personality of the contributing doctor saw “abomination,” when it saw the patient and recommended euthanasia. It saw “gemisch” and recommended the same thing. Doctor Conway, still not a man given to great fits of temper wanted to find the contributor and possibly give him a piece of his mind, or break his xenophobic face. 

The first step was of course to get the patient out of suspension, and address the trauma and malnutrition. This involved creating a reassuring environment for the patient to awaken in. He had a secured room with shielded and insulated walls set up, the walls painted a cheerful yellow. A bed was added, and a comfortable chair, and a small dresser. The Sexta Espada, who had insisted on being on site to observe the setup of the room, gave the furnishings a dubious look. “He’s a fucking dragon,” the Sexta said. 

Rosette Tomlin, one of the two psychiatric nurses on the care team frowned at the Arrancar. “He’s a person,” she said in a chilly tone. “Giving him a comfortable, nonthreatening environment to wake up in will help to lower his stress levels.” 

“He’s a _person_ with a _dragon_ in his head,” the Sexta said. “He isn’t going to know this is supposed to be comfortable or nonthreatening because he’s a _dragon_.”

“The goal here is to help recall Mister Kurosaki to himself,” the nurse said. “We can’t do that by putting him in a cage.” 

The Sexta Espada shrugged. “Didn’t say anything about putting him in a cage. I just don’t think you’re gonna tame him like this.” 

“Tame him?” Rosette asked with considerable disgust. “He isn’t an animal. He was treated like one. You don’t _tame_ people.”

The Sexta Espada growled, and the nurse glared back. Doctor Conway knew he needed to intervene immediately. “Nurse Tomlin, Espada Jaegerjaquez, I believe you may be talking past each other.” The nurse and the Arrancar both turned their attention to him. The nurse looked embarrassed, the Arrancar angry. “According to my notes on the combination process, there was always a point where the subject was overwhelmed by the instincts of the contributing genus. Something similar to having a personality overlay from an education tape I suppose. I suspect that by ‘taming’ the Espada actually means socialization. Am I correct?” 

Jaegerjaquez shrugged. “Something like that. Wasn’t saying he wasn’t a person, or wasn’t in that skull somewhere. Just saying that he’s too dragon and maybe too fucked up otherwise to know whether he’s safe or not.” 

Rosette looked chagrinned. “I apologize, Espada. That wasn’t professional of me at all.” 

Jaegerjaquez shrugged again. “Kurosaki’s going to wreck all of that,” he predicted. “Shielding’s probably going to hold though. I don’t know if that’s going to be enough room for him.” 

“We’ll try it this way first,” Nurse Algeth said flatly. The Kelgian’s fur shifted, indicating support for its team member, Nurse Tomlin, and a certain amount of _fond-exasperation-for-a-friend._ Tomlin was a dedicated psychiatric nurse, but had a protective and fierce temperament that occasionally got her into trouble. Algeth meanwhile had the calmer temperament and when teamed with Tomlin served as an anchor to Tomlin’s impulsiveness. “And work on secondary accommodations in the meantime.”

“Kelgian diplomacy in action, huh?” Jaegerjaquez said, sounding almost amused. “Sure, go ahead, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

The Espada turned out to be completely correct in his prediction. Mister Kurosaki was moved to the room and with as little physical contact as possible (to avoid scent tags) placed in the bed. After about three hours the patient returned to consciousness, and after a few minutes of apparent fogginess, rolled out of bed and began exploring his environment, his behavior closer to something predatory and nonsentient than not as he explored the confines of the room and sniffed at the furniture. 

When addressed via the audio pickups, the patient growled, head cocking slightly before returning to his restless exploration. Within an hour the restlessness increased, but the patient made no attempt to communicate. Food and water was sent in via a two doored compartment set in the wall. The patient grabbed at it immediately, but didn’t eat it, poking at it with apparent distaste before finally bolting it down. 

Once the patient had finished eating, he returned to his restless pacing, clearly trying to find a way to escape from the room. He pounded on the door and the walls, growling to himself. Another attempt was made to speak to him, but he made no coherent response, gold eyes glaring toward the cameras. 

Mister Kurosaki eventually fell asleep curled up in an armored ball in one corner of the room, rather than using the bed. He slept lightly and restlessly, intermittently returning to pacing and testing the walls and the door, becoming increasingly agitated until he broke the furniture apart with raw telekinetic force, repeatedly battering the fragments against the door, which held, thanks to the shield. 

* * *

Coming up is…strange. 

There’s words, and he doesn’t know that they’re words at first. They’re just sounds, half familiar and in patterns he almost recognizes. _“Good morning Mister Kurosaki, how are you feeling? Are you able to understand me?”_ But there’s nothing to hold onto, there’s nothing that really makes sense. 

There’s food, and water. The food started out boring, not alive, nothing of _interest._ The kind of interest that meant _yes that, I want that to be a part of me._ Then the food became less boring because it moved. It still wasn’t alive, it just moved. Having to catch it made it taste better, but it still wasn’t alive. 

There were places to climb and places to sleep. There was no prey in reach. They were clever and kept themselves out of reach behind thick walls and doors. They talked and some other part stirred. _“Mister Kurosaki we’ve brought you breakfast. Chef Gurronsevas is delighted that you seem to like the adjusted formula, and the casing.”_ Cheerful, calm voices with no fear, as if he weren’t something to fear. How dare they. Voices full of concern and a confusing desire to help. 

Ichigo actually wakes up, wondering where he is _(“You were brought to Sector General by two Hueco Mundo Espada, Sexta Espada Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and Trez Espada Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck. You were admitted twelve six eighty at six hundred hours.”)_ He’s lying on a hard, flat surface that somehow feels warm and also comfortable. It’s stone. He’s lying on a rock, and beyond the rock is sand and more rocks within a huge room that has a climbing wall, more piles of rocks, and a dome that some part of his brain is insisting is a den. There are also balls and brightly colored cups of various sizes. He has vague memories of throwing the balls, playing with the sand and stacking the cups. There had been rain? Somehow there had been rain, complete with thunder. He remembers water washing through the plates of his armor, and rolling around in the rain and muddy sand. 

(He doesn’t want to think about armor. He doesn’t want to look down at his hands which have fingers that end in curved claws.)

“Why am I in an animal exhibit?” Ichigo asked. 

(He doesn’t want to think of how his voice sounds, altered by the bone mask over what used to be his face.)

“Mister Kurosaki?” a voice asked from the vicinity of the ceiling, which seemed very high and bright. “Did you enjoy your nap?” 

“Yeah, but could you answer the question?” 

“It’s not an animal exhibit!” the voice said. “I’m Nurse Tomlin, part of your care team at Sector General. You were moved here after you wrecked your previous room. We emptied out one of the Chalder tanks and modified it to match the conditions of the Hueco Mundo High Range Desert. It really did seem to help reduce the stress you were experiencing.” 

“Right,” Ichigo said, sitting up. His tail moved along with his movement and he froze. He had a tail. Of course he had a tail, before it hadn’t been strange, any more than the armor or mask. The claws and spurs. Not having any clothes on. “This is Sector General?” He asked. Holy shit. This place had a reputation. One of the biggest and best hospital stations, committed to peaceful first contacts and interactions among species. His dad had always talked the place up, had always wanted to work there. (Had always wanted Ichigo to become a doctor and work there.) “How long has it been?” 

The nurse, Rosette Tomlin gives him a complete debriefing. Bits and pieces of it he almost already knows. Things that he knows had been repeated over and over again in hopes something might get through. He’s been at Sector General for nearly a year now, slowly recovering from what had been done to him while he’d been a prisoner/experimental rat of a war criminal wanted by six galactic polities. (Aizen. Aizen was dead. Aizen was dead with extreme prejudice.) The hospital didn’t know about the Aizen part though, just the experimentation part, obviously. For some reason, he’d been brought to Sector General by two of the soldiers that had initially captured him. Who were apparently actually Espada ranked operatives. Who had decided to adopt him. (Something like adoption. They were apparently acting as his “guardians.”) 

“They mentioned it was a matter of personal honor, according to Doctor Conway,” the nurse said when he expressed a general feeling of “what the hell.” 

“Right,” Ichigo said. (Why hadn’t they killed him? Why wasn’t he still in some kind of cell somewhere? What did they want from him? They couldn’t want him to turn coat, he wasn’t valuable as a prisoner of war.)

Back in his right mind or not, it’s still weeks before he’s able to leave his room or interact with his doctor or other members of his therapy team. Something in the back of his head continues to track everything it sees as potential prey. (Never as a potential threat, just prey of various levels of difficulty. Sand dragons were apparently stupidly confident.) There’s also a sense that everyone is standing to close. It turns out he needs a personal bubble twice the length of his damn tail. 

There’s also…not being human anymore. (All species refer to themselves as human in their own languages according to Monitor Corps philosophy. Except that wasn’t what he’d grown up with, so he wasn’t human. He was less than. Even more less than, except no, that was bullshit; he hadn’t let that bullshit fuck him up before, and he wasn’t going to now.) He didn’t like how his own body felt. He didn’t want to see the “mask” of bone over his face. He didn’t want to talk about it either. It made him angry and short tempered, and his sessions with his therapist were not helpful. (The therapist was a baseline human, not a Quincy. There aren’t many Quincies at Sector General, none in the psychiatry department.)

Who does help, who he never expected to see again, is Inoue Orihime. He’d been part of the extraction team that had rescued her from a kidnapping four years ago. She was the little sister of an Earth-Federation ambassador, and he didn’t know the precise details behind the kidnapping, but he was pretty sure it had more to do with her wildcard healing talent than any political pressure. Since then he’d known she’d gone to medical school somewhere, but not much else. She was an intern in the Pathology department, and she’d heard he was a patient, and immediately contacted him. 

Inoue-san was friendly, helpful and reassuring. She spent time with him in a purely social sense. She introduced him to other patients and her co-workers. They played computer games and watched entertainment serials together. (She encouraged him to actually go to therapy without sounding like a doctor telling him what to do.) It was easier for Ichigo to talk about how much he misses home with Inoue-san, since she’s so far away from hers, and he knew her. 

She saw what he looked like now, and didn’t care in a way that was different than the way his doctors didn’t care. The doctors of Sector General didn’t care in the sense that he was just another sentient in need of medical care. Inoue-san didn’t care even though she knew what he looked like before. She knew what he was supposed to look like.

The Arrancar send video messages. 

The Tres Espada Nel Tu Odelschwanck is friendly and strangely kind. “You have nothing to worry about, Kurosaki-san,” she said. “You don’t owe me or the Hueco Mundo government anything; we owe you, and are willing to pay with interest. We can relocate you just about anywhere; give you the opportunity to do anything you might want to do.” She paused, looking sad, a gentle sympathy he wouldn’t have expected from an Arrancar. “Well, except go home. If you have any questions or requests, please contact me.” She smiled. “Or we could talk when we come to visit.” 

The Sexta Espada Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez wanted a rematch. “Word is you’re back in your right mind,” he said, bright blue eyes staring right at the camera in a way that made something in the back of Ichigo’s head snarl at the challenge. “Congratulations and all that. I’ll admit you kicked my asshole between my teeth back there, but I want another round. Neither of us were at our best and I want to see how you fight when you aren’t a bag of pissed off bones and my arm aint broke.”

* * *

Orihime, in the words of a Monitor Corps sergeant friend of hers, was about to get her ass smoked. She was utterly and completely doomed. She reluctantly sat down on the execution seat and tried very hard not to babble apologies or justifications to Major O’Mara. Neither would work. “You sent for me, sir?” she said, and tried not to squeak. 

“Doctor Inoue,” Major O’Mara acknowledged in an icy tone of voice. “I’d like to know why you felt the need to go against the recommendations of the head Diagnostician and the express wishes of the patient’s guardians concerning contact with the patient’s family.” 

Orihime sat up straight, hands folded in her lap. (Her fingers twisted together in unconscious anxiety.) “Sir, with respect there’s also the wishes of Ichigo-kun--I mean the patient to consider. He misses his family, he loves his little sisters. I didn’t, I still don’t believe it was wrong to let them know he was still alive.”

“The Tres and Sexta Espada indicated that if he was returned to the custody of his family, they’d have him euthanized. This was confirmed by Doctor Conway after downloading the Quincy educator tape.”

“I didn’t feel that was enough evidence sir, not if the patient could be reunited with his family after having been through so much. I just wanted Ichigo-kun--the patient to be happy.” 

“But that’s not what happened, is it doctor?” O’Mara said in an acidic tone. Orihime’s shoulder’s hunched. “No sir.” 

It had been a disaster from the beginning. The patient’s family had arrived demanding to see Ichigo-kun, but there had been a hold put in place by the Espada, barring them from speaking to Ichigo. The Tres Espada and Sexta Espada, who had previously arrived to check in on the patient’s recovery had immediately confronted the family in one of the guest areas. An argument that nearly came to blows ensued, accusations flying back and forth. 

“There was very nearly a pitched battle among powerful psychics in this hospital thanks to your soft-hearted meddling. ‘Meant well’ holds little weight in this profession. Patients have died due to a failure to understand underlying causes of behavior, do you understand?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Also, you weren’t even a consulting doctor on this case. What led you to believe that you should interfere with any aspect of it?” 

“I wasn’t acting as a doctor,” Orihime said. “I was acting as a friend.” Major O’Mara gave her a level look. “You’re fortunate that friendship holds slightly more weight than ‘meaning well.’ However as a friend who is also a doctor at this hospital you should have looked into the situation more closely instead of making impulsive decisions. You should have brought your concerns to the medical team or myself, not acted on your own.”

“With due respect Major, other doctors have successfully acted on their own recognizance in a variety of difficult and unusual cases at this hospital,” Orihime said, because she couldn’t not. “I don’t feel I could have done anything else. I know his family wouldn’t hurt him. All they wanted to do was see him. It only became a problem because of the block and the confrontation with the Espada.”

“Generally it was on cases they were actually assigned to, or consulted on Doctor Inoue,” O’Mara said coldly. “Now, you are going to meet with both the Espada and Mister Kurosaki’s family and mediate. You will also find out what the patient wants concerning any meetings. Which I suspect you haven’t done.” 

“I wanted it to be a surprise for him,” Orihime said, her shoulders hunching again. 

“It seems that you were the one surprised, doctor. Now go fix the problem.” 

With that dismissal, Orihime practically darted out of the chair and out of the room. 

**How bad was the ass-chewing?** Tatsuki texted a few minutes later. 

**Not as many teeth as I thought there would be! But now I have to fix it.** Orihime texted back.

**Good luck with that! Try not to get your ass literally chewed!**

**You are so mean to me! :P** Orihime texted. 

**Only because I want to toughen you up! <3** Tatsuki texted. 

Orihime snorted indelicately.

There was also a pointed message from the head of Ichigo-kun’s care team, Doctor Urahara Kisuke: **Doctor Inoue-san, perhaps we should consult since you seem to have taken over my patient’s case?**

Ow. Orihime texted back: **I’m sorry Urahara-sensei. Have you told Ichigo-san about his family being here yet?**

The reply was: **Oh no, once again, I thought I would wait to consult with you, Doctor. Please meet me in my office.**

Orihime sighed, thought about apologizing again, and thought better of it. **I’ll be right there,** she texted back. 

* * *

Masaki was…frozen. She was listening, she knew what was going on, she didn’t think she was dissociating. She was holding onto Isshin’s hand like letting go would mean falling while the young doctor, Doctor Inoue explained what happened to her son. What had most likely happened based on the evidence, because the bastards that had _tortured and experimented on her baby_ weren’t giving any more details than they had to. 

They still hadn’t been permitted to see him. They had been treated as a “potential threat to the patient’s life.” As if she would ever hurt her son. As if she would ever let anyone else hurt Ichigo or any of her children because of what they were. (At the same time, God, she couldn’t blame the hospital. Her kids were never going to meet their grandparents on her side, or most of their relatives.) They had been blocked from seeing their son due to information received from the Hueco Mundo Espada who had requested their “ward’s” family not be allowed contact due to possible danger to the patient, and also from a Quincy educator tape, which had immediately recommended euthanasia for her son. 

_(“Not gonna let you prissy fuckers kill him, because he’s an animal to you now,” the blue eyed Arrancar had snarled. “Not gonna let him go without a fight.”)_

“I could see how they could make that kind of assumption,” Isshin said in response to this point, his tone almost cheerful, except around the edges where it wasn’t. “Especially if the doctor donating the tape were echt. I don’t have anything against echt mind, after all the most wonderful woman in the galaxy, the woman I married is echt!” 

Masaki felt herself thaw a bit at the ragging tone, and she smiled at Isshin. “Oh no dear, they found out I was secretly a half baseline bastard! I was disowned, though for some reason my parents never divorced because of the heinous act of adultery!”

“Oh no, this _does_ mean I have something against echt, if my darling wife is actually gemischt!” Isshin said, dramatically posing in his chair, hand over heart. 

Masaki snorted, and squeezed Isshin’s other hand a bit. Yuzu and Karin looked moderately embarrassed by their parent’s silly exchange. The doctors looked on with a certain puzzled interest. “Our son wanted to protect people, so he joined the military,” she said. “He could be nothing less than a hero to us, no matter what happened to him. The implication that we as his family would want to put him down like a sick dog is profoundly upsetting to us.” 

“There was obviously a misunderstanding,” Doctor Urahara said. “The Espada were quite convinced that Kurosaki-san’s life would be endangered if he was returned to his home.” 

“It probably would have been if they’d turned him over to the military,” Karin muttered. “We’d have been lucky to get a nice letter.” 

“Karin,” Masaki sighed. She couldn’t really argue with her daughter on that point however.

“It’s true though, isn’t it?” Karin said. “Mom, _they were scared for him._ I know you could sense it. They thought we wanted to kill Ichi-nii. And you _know_ the military would have put him down, or maybe experimented on him themselves.” 

“We will get to see Ichi-nii, won’t we?” Yuzu asked. “The Arrancar didn’t say anything to him, to make him not want to see us?” 

“Does he know we’re here?” Karin asked. 

“The Espada as far as we know haven’t said anything about you. Kurosaki-san has been informed that you’re here, and he does want to see you, though he’s experiencing some anxiety about it,” Doctor Urahara said. “He’s experiencing some continuing dysphoria and identity problems due to the combination. It’s very much like having the personality from an education tape in your head, so he might not seem much like himself at times. We’ve been working on some of the impulses and instincts he received from the combination, and he’s been increasingly able to socialize and interact.” The Doctor smiled. “Some of the therapies we’ve come up with may help other disastrous combinations on Hueco Mundo, though that will probably be of less interest to you.” 

After more details about Ichigo’s condition, they were escorted to one of the patient lounges, where Ichigo was waiting for them. He had been sitting and talking quietly with a Kelgian nurse, but had stood immediately the moment the door had opened. He was so alien looking, but no more alien than the six foot long caterpillar-like being he was standing beside. Bright gold eyes, horns, a bipedal body covered in plates, a long restless tail. (Was it prehensile?) “Mom, Dad,” he said, voice strained and a little strange sounding. “Hey Karin, Yuzu.” 

“When they said you were a dragon, I thought you’d maybe have wings,” Karin said, breaking a silence that felt longer than it should have.

“We’re of Japanese descent kid,” Ichigo said, and there was a sound like a smile in his voice. “I mean way, way back, but our dragons _don’t_ have wings. _Asian_ dragons don’t have wings.” 

“Hueco Mundo was mostly central and south America though,” Karin argued. “I mean it was also a hell hole the government dropped genetic undesirables from all over like a nightmare sociology experiment, but it was mostly Western undesirables, so wings.” 

Ichigo snorted. “Okay, fair.” 

“My son has become so mature,” Isshin said. “And learned to stop arguing with his little sisters, I’m so proud!” 

“He’s always been a good boy darling, of course he’d become a good man!” Masaki said. 

“Mom, Dad, no,” Ichigo, Karin and Yuzu chorused. “Stop,” Ichigo said further, both embarrassed and trying not to laugh. 

“And so modest!” Masaki said. In a more serious tone she said. “Oh honey. I’m so glad you’re alive. We were so worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Ichigo said. 

“Don’t apologize,” Isshin said. “There’s nothing to apologize _for,_ kid.”

“I know but--I don’t even know what I’m going to do now. I’m glad you’re here.” He said the last in a much quieter tone. “I’m glad you were told I was here. Orihime got in trouble for it though,” he said, sounding a little amused. “Poor Inoue-san, the Major smoked her, then Doctor Hat and Clogs.” 

“Inoue-san?” Masaki asked. 

“Doctor Inoue,” Ichigo said. “She’s not my doctor, she’s a friend.”

“How good of a friend?” Isshin asked. “She seemed very nice, very concerned for you.” 

“Ideally, all of my children should marry doctors. It should be a family tradition,” Masaki said. 

“Just a friend,” Ichigo said. “I mean, I’m a patient here, and this is not exactly a dating kind of place.” 

“There have actually been a number of romantic relationships that turned into temporary or permanent partnerships at Sector General among the patients and the staff,” the Kelgian nurse said. Ichigo gave the nurse a look that somehow conveyed complete betrayal despite the lack of expression. 

Masaki stifled a giggle. 

“What about the Espada?” Karin asked. “What do _they_ want with you?” 

“They think they owe me?” Ichigo shrugged. “I can’t tell you why, it’s both classified and I don’t remember most of it. I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on with them. Nel Tu is pretty friendly; she thinks I should be in the Monitor Corps maybe. Grimmjow is a bag of dicks half the time, and a sack full of rage and issues the other. He apparently wants a rematch. The doctors are probably not going to let this happen.”

“A rematch?” Masaki asked, concerned. (The way he said that, the way he mentioned the Monitor Corps, a completely neutral interstellar organization like that hit her in a strange way. He’d already accepted he wasn’t going home, that he was an exile. She looked to her husband, and from the look in his eyes she knew he’d heard the same thing.) _“He won’t be alone,”_ she said silently to her husband, and heard his silent agreement. 

“Yeah. Apparently I fought him at some point? And kicked his ass?” Ichigo shrugged again. “It apparently wasn’t a fair fight because I was sick and out of my mind and his arm was broken.” 

_(“Not going let you kill him. No one is even going to touch him,” the blue eyed Espada said. The other Espada had said, “There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s not an animal. He’s getting_ better, _just leave him alone.” The both of them had argued as if she were a threat to her son. It had made her so angry, so horrified and sick. “He’s my son! He’s still my son!” she had screamed back.)_

“He just wants to fight?” Masaki couldn’t help but to ask. There had been something about the driving concern behind the Sexta Espada’s thoughts concerning Ichigo. There had been rage and aggression there, but also something else; something like admiration, something like pride. The Tres’ concern had almost been a gentler thing, but no less determined to protect.

Ichigo huffs out a breath, and glares at the Kelgian, then at her. “Have you been talking to Nurse Algeth?” he asked suspiciously. “She keeps saying that he’s flirting with me.” 

“Umm.” 

“Mom!” Ichigo said his voice a betrayed whine. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Masaki said. “I think the nurse may be right. He at least seems to like you, and was quite willing to face off against me and possibly the entire Quincy Empire for your sake.” She deliberately waved aside the notion of flirtatious Arrancar aside. It was something that could be dealt with later, or not. “What’s more important, is can we come closer? We were told you might have problems with proximity, but Nurse Algeth seems to be fairly close to you right now.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ichigo said, sounding a little sheepish. “I was practicing.” He opened up his arms. “At the risk of losing all possible cool, could I maybe get some hugs? Just maybe don’t move toward me too fast.”

There was a very slow race to get to Ichigo first. Karin and Yuzu won, but only because Masaki let them. (And caught Isshin by the arm.) 

**Author's Note:**

> Sector General is a series of short stories and novel length works by James White. Its genre is space opera, and the setting is an immense hospital station with a mission to make peaceful first contacts between alien species (and provide them with medical care). 
> 
> The classification system: The Sector General Series uses a four letter classification system to group aliens by physiology. I do not have the *key* to the four letter classification system because the sector general fansite (which had the key) is not around anymore and the fanwiki is surpremely unhelpful. 
> 
> Humans are classified as DBDG in the series, and I gave Hollows the SRTT classification in honor of a shapechanging alien that ran amok (though nonlethally) on the hospital station in one of the stories. 
> 
> genus: I am using "genus" instead of species in this case because Hollows absorb each other's equivalent of DNA in order to acquire nifty new features, and they can do this with just about any other Hollow, but there are similarities within groups. They also aborb any other DNA equivalent because they are weird and the lifeform equivalent of the English language (which can be found in dark alleys robbing other languages of spare grammar/vocabulary.) Basically, they needed a broader category. 
> 
> educator tapes: In the Sector General series there are so many species that it would be impossible to be an expert in every possible alien physiology or the treatments for same. To fix this is the concept of "educator tapes" which are mental imprints of doctors who are expert in whatever physiology or treatment is necessary. Unfortunately for the doctor using the tape, you get an imprint of a completely alien psychology/physiology to go along with the information. This means you occasionally have oxygen breathers with a high sensitivy to radiation jonesing for a nice cup of uranium tea. A running joke in the series is the occasional doctor eating a plain looking sandwich with their eyes closed. Doctor Conway did not like having a xenophobic asshole in his head, to put it mildly. 
> 
> Chalder: Imagine a ten meter long shark with tentacles. They are very friendly people.
> 
> Keglians: Six foot long caterpillar looking beings. They seem to be brusque to the point of rudeness because they convey emotion and tone via their fur, which moves according to their mood.  
> 
> Mobile food: So, in _The Galactic Gourmet_ a chef wanted the challenge of making palatable food for all species, and decided the best place to do this was on a huge hospital station. One of his first successful experiments was creating mobile food for the Chalder, who were having trouble eating hospital food because it lacked a critical "it was moving approximately three seconds before I chomped it" factor. The Chalder, when presented with this new treat enjoyed it immensely, but completely wrecked the ward. I decided it would be funny if Dragonbrain!Ichigo had a similar problem.


End file.
